


of freckles and sunshine hair

by sonrissa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Painting, Short & Sweet, Soft Tsukishima Kei, Soulmates, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Writing on Skin, Yamaguchi Tadashi's Freckles, but not really, i love these two, yamaguchi is an artist!, yamaguchi's dad makes an appearance kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonrissa/pseuds/sonrissa
Summary: Tsukishima thought he was incapable of love. No one, in his entire existence so far, had been able to deal with his sharp tongue and defensive personality.So, when he first notices the curious red, blue, and green marker on his hands and arms, he knows fate found someone to defy his aversion to being kind. To being loving.Maybe that someone was closer than he thought to look.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 23
Kudos: 344





	of freckles and sunshine hair

**Author's Note:**

> hey! this is the first I've ever posted my work publicly. feedback is welcomed!
> 
> I just love these two and this au. What can I say, my lesbian ass yearns for something sweet and domestic, and writing about these two fills that hole in my heart, I guess.
> 
> Hope you like it!

Tsukishima never thought anyone out there could be his soulmate. No one, in his entire existence so far, had been able to deal with his sharp tongue and defensive personality. There was no way anyone could put up with how he is for most of their lives- they would try and change him or maybe they would give up and walk away from their relationship.

That’s what Tsukishima would do.

So, when he first notices the curious red, blue, and green marker on his hands and arms, he knows fate found someone to defy his aversion to being kind. To being loving. Tsukishima is only a small child when the paint splatters mysteriously appear on his hands. That same year, the class is given a little information about soulmates and why the strange markings appear. Tsukishima thinks nothing of it; why should fate decide who you are destined to be with? It didn’t always work out for soulmates- there were still abusive and unhealthy relationships- he was certain he would be one of those disaster cases.

He felt guilty for whoever was destined to be his; Tsukishima thought he was incapable of love.

Yamaguchi was a different story. From a young age he was a bit disparate than the other kids. He was an artist in the making; always painting or drawing or taking terrible, blurry pictures from his father’s phone. His father realized how much happiness Tadashi found in the arts, so he tried his best to support him which proved difficult as a single father. Even on their worst nights however, Tadashi was there drawing goofy pictures to help make his father smile.

The other kids also noticed how gifted Yamaguchi was. As well as how different he was from them. Some got jealous, and from that jealousy breathed violence. Yamaguchi became acquainted to insults and injury from a young age, finding them to be a dependable, yet harmful companion throughout his younger years. Somehow he knew how sad those rude, belittling people were on the inside. Yamaguchi always kept this thought in mind when they hurt him, so he let them. He also forgave them, giving his best effort not to take it personally. This only led to a moment of hesitation from his persecutors before harder, more frustrated punches were thrown towards him. He saw through them, and they hated that more than anything.

For he was too weird, too freckle-y, and too quiet, Yamaguchi lost any hope that he could ever be loved.

Besides, he doesn’t have a soulmate. At least, Yamaguchi doesn’t think he does. Although he has made a few attempts at contact via writing on his hands or arms, there has never been a single response. Not even a misplaced dot.

So, now, he uses his arms for lists and doodles and notes. Sometimes he still writes little messages, as if there were someone on the other side. He figured there was a person destined for him to be with at one point, but maybe they died? Tadashi isn’t sure how to feel about it.

On the day he loses all hope of ever having someone to be with, Yamaguchi is proven wrong. The bullies had figured him out. They notice his arms are covered in only his tall, curly handwriting. Nothing else accompanies his lonely, forest-green pen and paint smudges. They take Tadashi’s arms, his only real thing that exists only for him, and they scribble terrible things. They call him a freak, tell him he’d be better off lying at the bottom of the sea. They scratch with their rushed, angry writing and blackout most of Tadashi’s pale, freckled skin with insults.

He spent the rest of recess desperately washing off the ink in the bathroom. It barely faded no matter how hard he scrubbed and Tadashi didn’t know what to do in order to get rid of it. When he gets home that day to an empty house, he runs upstairs and takes out his paints. First, he blots out his entire forearm with red. Angry, upset, tearstained red that he can’t help but want to be his blood. If it were, his father wouldn’t have to work so many shifts and maybe he would see his soulmate in an afterlife, and maybe every bully would finally be happy --

Then, something strange happens.

Tsukishima isn’t sure why he does it. He’s never been an outwardly kind person before. Maybe it’s because it’s his soulmate; the one who he can’t help but feel the soft feelings in his chest for. Maybe it is because whenever a new doodle pops up during class or when he sees the paint gathering on his fingertips or when he reads a note made especially just for him, he feels warm but also guilty. He feels guilty for not reciprocating and sometimes it hurts to watch as the doodles and notes thin out over time. Maybe it was because seeing the blood red paint hurriedly cover the brutal words in unfamiliar script shook Tsukishima to his core. It scared him. It made him realize he did not want to lose this mystery person.

It was time he gave his soulmate a little hope.

All of the above reasons led him to do it, Tsukishima thinks as he grabs some old paint of his brothers and prays that it’s non-toxic. He takes a deep navy blue and slowly, calmly replaces all the red. Not that he would ever admit it, but his hands are shaking. He used to think he was protecting his soulmate from himself- from the sharpness that was Tsukishima- but now he thinks how much he would miss the little notes and doodles throughout the day. Wonders what it would be like to make someone else feel that joy through their mirrored skin.

Once all the annoying, terrifying red is blotted out with a much calmer blue, Tsukishima uses a white paint to create a crescent moon on one arm, right on his wrist. It’s shakier than he would like it to be, but his soulmate doesn’t seem to care. Now, his soulmate is adding stars into the night sky Tsukishima created. His soulmate is obviously much more talented than Tsukishima when is comes to art, but Tsukishima thinks he didn’t fuck up everything.

That night, Tsukishima goes to bed without washing it off, so that in the morning he knows it was real.

The little messages and doodles to Tsukishima become more frequent after that. Rarely does he reply, but sometimes he’ll send an OK or a terrible doodle through the soulbond. He finds that his rare responses never bother his soulmate, but always make their day better.

He also finds that he begins getting to know his soulmate better, even though they rarely talk. He notices how gentle the brush strokes and pen marks are. He noticed how they are ambidextrous, which surprises Tsukishima entirely. He already knows they’re an artist, but not to what extent. One time they painted the Starry Night on both arms. Both arms! He also realizes they have freckles after pondering what the fuck the miscellaneous tiny dots on his arms meant; his soulmate had been blacking out the delicate freckles on his arms. When he finally figured it out, he wrote neatly in his looping handwriting, freckles? And got the dull response of, yes. (Usually the responses are accompanied by at least three exclamation points.) Tsukishima only responds after washing off all of the black dots littered on his arms. He writes, cute. His soulmate gushes with many exclamation points and tiny hearts. They bring a rare smile to Tsukishima’s face.

On the worst nights, Tsukishima’s soulmate will paint on their wrists or on their thighs. Sometimes it’s just multiple colors blended together and other times there are actual works of art on Tsukishima’s arms that he doesn’t wash off unless he is forced to. On every single one of these nights Tsukishima draws a little crescent moon on his wrist. Everytime a small heart is drawn on the opposite wrist.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Tsukishima thinks he doesn’t hate the idea of spending the majority of his time with this unknown person. Sure, he isn’t much for conversation, but he understands this person who paints through a barrier of skin. It is possible they understand him too.

Yamaguchi is just happy he has a soulmate. It means he’s not a freak! Or, at least, not as freakish as he thought. There was someone out there destined to love him and be with him and not hate him as much as every other person his age seemed to. He thinks the only people who don’t hate him right now are his father and his old, cat-lady neighbor Ms. Mina.

He pondered for a moment why his soulmate never responded until Yamaguchi’s big breakdown, but he decides he doesn’t really care why. All that mattered was his soulmate was here now and that they cared about him. He could always ask them, but he didn’t want to scare them off, so he lets it go for now.

He never pushes for information about his soulmate. He doesn’t want to frighten them off and he doesn’t feel the need to know everything about them at such a young age. However, there are small exchanges of which they learn about each other. Nothing too personal or revealing, like their locations, but instead their hobbies and basic day-to-day life.

On a warm summer’s day, Tadashi and his father were stuck inside during the sweltering heat wave with no air conditioning. There was a movie playing that Tadashi couldn’t focus on without thinking of how sweaty and uncomfortably warm he felt, so he brought out his paints to the couch and sat with his father. On his right arm (he learned it was easier that way because his soulmate was right-handed and wrote on the left arm), he began doing an outline of his father’s face in pen. Then, ever carefully, he began mixing and painting a portrait of his father’s kind eyes and crooked nose, splashed with his freckles and wrinkles. Yamaguchi learned early that he did not share most of his traits with his father; his hair color and his eyes and his pointed chin- all apparently from his mother who he never knew. He bordered it in a frame of gladiolas and heather lavender.

In response, his soulmate started drawing on Yamaguchi’s left arm. The lines were a bit shaky, but he understood what the shapes represented. There were two larger figures, one scowling with glasses, cropped hair, and a bowtie. The other with shoulder-length, curly hair, a small smile, and what Yamaguchi assumed to be scrubs. There was also another, smaller shape. This one had messy, flat hair and an expression so intentionally dumb it made Yamaguchi laugh- well that and the label underneath it which read: my dumbass family. Yamaguchi always knew his soulmate was cynical yet he found it quite endearing.

Small exchanges like this occurred fairly often and Yamaguchi treasured every one of them; he took many pictures of the stupid, but meaningful sketches before leaving a bunch of hearts and exclamation points around his hands and arms. 

-

Yamaguchi made his first friend at age ten. It was unexpected really and he truly believed that the lanky, apathetic, blond boy would have joined in on the “fun times” his tormentors were having outside after school. Some rougher and more insecure boys in Tadashi’s class had him cornered; had thrown him around like a rag doll and teamed-up to make his day one that would inevitably end in him painting up and down his arms to get rid of the weak, hollow feeling that set in his bones.

Until the tall, stunning boy walked near to them with an expressionless sneer.

“Pathetic.” He had said. Tadashi wasn’t sure whom he was referring to, but really couldn’t feel anymore pathetic as he did when he’d lay on the ground, scraped and dusty and filled with an emptiness he wasn’t sure he could get rid of. In the very least, the beautiful boy’s words got the bully’s attention. They swarmed him hesitantly, unsure if he would overpower them with his height if a fight were to occur. It gave Tadashi enough time to gather himself and leave without being followed.

Still, he felt somewhat indebted to this stranger.He was the only boy who had ever stood up for Tadashi, and he felt compelled to thank the taller boy. He deserved that much.

Kei met his first friend while applying for his first ever volleyball team. He was young, and trying out just like his older brother had done. He had recognised the freckled boy from somewhere, but never placed his face. Later, the cute, freckled boy came up to him in the gym and thanked him. Genuinely thanked Tsukishima Kei. It wasn’t sarcastic nor some sort of prank produced by his classmates in order to conjure a reaction from Kei. It was a simple ‘thank you’ and Kei wasn’t sure he had done anything to deserve it- he never treated people kindly, so why was someone being so genuine? Then, the (rather one-sided) conversation was steered towards volleyball and Tsukishima had never felt so comfortable around someone he hardly knew.

Tsukishima Kei decided to trust. As terrifying as it was, he found the company convivial albeit quiet from his side of the friendship. Yamaguchi was his first and only friend, but that was really all he needed. Between his new friend, and his soulmate, Kei didn’t need anyone else to make him happy.

Yamaguchi kept finding things to like about Tsukishima. Maybe it was because Tsukishima was his first real friend. Maybe it was because Tsukishima reminded him of his soulmate in so many ways. Tadashi was curious, yes, but he also left room for privacy with Tsukishima. He didn’t want to break a fragile friendship. He pretended not to notice the similarities in how he treated Tsukishima and his soulmate.

However, as time passed, he often thought about his soulmate and Tsukishima. He wondered whether he would gift a nickname to his soulmate like he did with Kei, or if they would be against it. Although, if Yamaguchi could get the ever illusive Tsukishima to take on a nickname, he could do it for anyone. 

One moment that brought Yamaguchi closer to his tall friend was yet another bout of bullying. He was quite the target, although he tried very hard not to draw attention to himself- tried to be almost invisible. Tsukishima was the first person he wanted to truly be seen by. Yamaguchi saw Kei’s soft, gentle side often, but he was rarely embraced by it. 

The first time he was gently embraced by his tall friend, Yamaguchi was sobbing on an empty classroom floor.

The art room was a safe place for Tadashi and he spent most breaks there. Tsukishima ate lunch with him there too, nodding along to his music- on good days he even played some out loud for Tadashi to hear as well. On a foggy Monday morning, Yamaguchi had walked to school a bit early in order to see how his paintings had dried over the weekend and found most of his works torn and broken. The frames of each canvas had been snapped in half, bent at odd angles.

He could feel his heart break.

He didn’t register how much time had passed until Tsukishima had come in the room, annoyed expression falling into barely-subdued concern. Yamaguchi was crumpled on the floor, sitting on his bent knees and barely grasping a ripped piece of canvas. Tsukishima gathered the view, eyes harshly scrapping on all the gory details before softening on Tadashi’s shivering form on the floor.

Tsukishima bent down and gathered the shaking boy into his arms, keeping him grounded. Long, bony fingers ran their way through Tadashi’s maple hair, slowly calming him until he could breathe easier. Later on, when he went to thank Kei, the subject was changed in a manner suspiciously nonchalant.

-

When Kei found out Yamaguchi Tadashi was his soulmate, he was unsurprised and ultimately glad. However, there was still a spike of doubt and panic and fear in his mind. What if Tadashi found out and felt overwhelmed? What if he secretly hated Tsukishima this whole time? What if he didn’t feel romantically inclined in the ways Kei did? The ‘what if’s circled around in his head like vultures, pulling on the loose threads of doubt in Kei’s mind, until it all unraveled and he was uncertain of everything having to do with his and Yamaguchi’s relationship.

Simply put, Kei was not ready for Yamaguchi to know. He was not ready, although he was glad it was his best friend. One day, either Yamaguchi would find out of his own accord, or Kei would tell him when the time felt right. For now, with thoughts swirling around his head playing the same loop of insecurity and a paralyzing fear of rejection, Kei would keep it to himself.

Tsukishima started wearing gloves, because he knew Yamaguchi would notice the paint on his fingertips. He missed seeing and admiring the colors. One day, he told himself. One day.

-

When Yamaguchi Tadashi found his soulmate, he was not surprised. It was not something he completely expected, but he figured his soulmate must have been someone similar to Tsukishima Kei. Someone guarded and rough around the edges, but cares for those important to them. Besides, he had been suspicious about all the similarities between his best friend and his soulmate.

The day had been during a three-day weekend off school and without volleyball practice. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima had spent the day together upon Tadashi’s request. They had walked to lunch and then the park where Tadashi met some dogs, and made their way to an ice cream stand where Tsukishima had somewhat of a standoff with the “annoying as fuck” bed-headed vendor. Finally, they went back to Tadashi’s house where he asked to paint Kei.

Kei complied. No conditions or anything. It made Tadashi feel giddy.

Tadashi had always admired the way Kei was effortlessly beautiful. He didn’t try to make or change his appearance; he just was. Yamaguchi found him exquisitely breathtaking. Some days it felt like he was lackluster in comparison, but his soulmate always seemed to say the right things at the right time. Saying his freckles were cute, or that his messages made their day better. Small, little things that bubbled warmth up in Tadashi’s chest, and swell with the feeling of being loved, being cared for.

As Tadashi was painting he got carried away in the movements, not truly focusing on what was happening around him. After tying his hair back, he created a rough outline of Kei’s proportions and started filling in the basic shapes and colors. It wasn’t until he got to Kei’s face that he noticed the smudge of color.

Or smudges of color on his forehead and neck and- wait. Were his hands covered in paint too?

His jaw dropped open, his eyes squinted. Yamaguchi couldn’t quite process this for a moment. Surely, Kei had only messed with wet paint somewhere, right? His thoughts bounced fast, and Tsukishima was still looking out the window at his weird, old neighbor, Ms. Mina, unbeknownst to Yamaguchi’s internal crisis. An almost nonexistent, content smile rested on Tsukishima’s lips. It made Yamaguchi’s heart glow.

There was only one thing to do to find out if his suspicions were correct, Tadashi supposed.

With his free hand (the other delicately holding a paintbrush), Yamaguchi carefully took a sliver of blue paint on his finger, and drew a line down his nose. He watched in awe as a replica of the line materialized onto Tsukishima’s nose. An identical set. Yamaguchi only knew what this ment.

“Ts-Tsukki!” He said, startling the blond in front of him. As Kei turned to him, a question on his brow, Yamaguchi trailed midnight blue down his cheek. Kei then smiled with half his mouth, albeit Tadashi could tell there was a hint of nervousness within it. Nobody could read Kei as well as Tadashi could. The thought made something comforting grow in his chest.

“So, you finally noticed?” Kei said.

“Wh-what?” Yamaguchi said, feeling fairly overwhelmed at the moment.

Tsukishima stood up and slowly walked over to Tadashi who was hiding behind his canvas. He took the paintbrush from Yamaguchi’s lightly shaking hands and set it into the water. His thumb dipped in red paint, Tsukishima brought both his long hands to Tadashi’s face. Gently, he held Yamaguchi’s face and booped his nose with his red thumb. Yamaguchi watched as a red dot appeared on Tsukishima’s face as well.

That was when Yamaguchi broke out into a smile. A blisteringly white smile that Tsukishima felt could melt mountains. He laughed an accusing, ‘Tsukki!” at Kei before covering the other boy’s long fingers with his own.

“You should have told me.” He says softly, eyes sad yet incredibly happy all at once.

“I know.” Kei starts. He leans his forehead against Tadashi’s. “I know and I’m sorry. I should have, I just- I wasn’t ready. I was scared. I’m not… good at this kind of thing.”

In the following moment, Tadashi moves his fingers slowly from Kei’s hands, up his arms, and finds them a home in Tsukishima’s sunshine hair. He smiles softly up at Kei, who looks back down at him with the same small smile.

“I understand, don’t worry. I forgive you.”

As his hands travel to the back of Tsukishima’s neck, he speaks up in a quiet tone, “Can I kiss you, Kei?”

Kei blinks once, rests his hands on Tadashi’s freckled cheeks, and pulls Tadashi closer to him. He cranes down achingly slow, and their lips meet and for a moment everything is forgotten and it’s just them. It’s just them and each other and Kei’s arms around him. His lips gently caressing Tadashi’s. After the first kiss, they meet eyes and Tadashi’s expression reminds Kei of all the written excitement (!!!!, <3<3<3) on his arms. Then he kisses Tadashi again and again and again.

“You’re not going to be finishing that painting anytime soon, are you?” Kei smirks to Tadashi’s blushing face.

“And who’s fault is that?” A flustered, blushing and happy Tadashi answers.

“Ours.” Tsukishima says, pulling himself and Tadashi down onto the living room couch. Tadashi’s bright laughter fills the room and the space in Tsukishima’s chest, and Tsukishima think’s he could drown in the noise. Tadashi settles himself on the couch, letting his legs rest over Kei’s while his head is pressed against Kei’s chest. Kei runs a hand through Tadashi’s hair and places a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Tadashi smiles up at him, and doesn’t think he can stop smiling ever.

“You know, for someone who’s not very good at this,” Tadashi says, meeting Kei’s pretty golden eyes, “you’re really, very good at this.”

Kei flushes, spatters something that Tadashi thinks is supposed to be a comprehensible insult if it weren’t so mumbled, and buries his face in Tadashi’s shoulder. He breathes in and out, taking in all of Tadashi and what happened and he simply holds his soulmate.

Tadashi has always felt right in his arms. He didn’t know why he ever doubted it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and i hope you have a lovely, lovely day!


End file.
